


Cocksicles

by kateyboosh, Terrantalen



Series: Dave Brown's Eternal Torture [2]
Category: The Mighty Boosh RPF
Genre: Actual Romance, And Experiencing Orgasmic Freezer Sex Bliss, And How It Is Shared, Banter, Blow Jobs, Crack, Everyone is very much alive, Flashbacks, Freezer Sex But Not In A Necrophilia Way, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Ice Cream Gets Noel Into Trouble, Implied Romance, Inky Blinky Pinky And Noel, Julian Loses His Voice, M/M, Rad Collab, Stuff Happens In A Small Cold Space, The Sharing Jumper, Warmth Kink, Your Eyes Will Go Heart Shaped, this is normal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:34:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28100226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kateyboosh/pseuds/kateyboosh, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terrantalen/pseuds/Terrantalen
Summary: Trapped in a freezer, not a box, by a South London cocksucker, not a Cockney nutjob. Icy, icy dicks ensue.Can they get out? Course they can.**with a little help from their friend
Relationships: Julian Barratt/Noel Fielding
Series: Dave Brown's Eternal Torture [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2058648
Comments: 12
Kudos: 7
Collections: Trash Triplets Crackmas 2020: It's All About Range





	Cocksicles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [starsonthebrow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsonthebrow/gifts).



> A loose sequel to Poor, Poor Dave Brown, on ice. You'll see.

Noel's sunshine yellow jumper sports a cheerful, happy grin. 

Noel's face sports a sulky scowl.

"Don't look at me like that," Julian says. "You're the one who got us locked in a bloody freezer."

“And you’re the one meant to keep me from doing things like getting us locked in a freezer.”

"You followed me in here. Didn’t occur to you to prop the door?”

“No,” Noel answers flatly. Obviously, Julian is meant to do things like remind him to prop open freezer doors. Noel sees how Julian is looking at him. He folds his arms across his chest. “I was Cornetto blind. You know that.” He pushes a hand through his dark hair and shoves it off his forehead. It flutters perfectly back into place. “I just can’t believe you let me get us into this mess.”

Julian rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I really fucked it there.”

“Sorta did, Ju,” Noel says. “I mean, who needs a Cornetto at twelve at night anyway?”

“You, you berk!”

“Well, you coulda said—“

“Said what?”

"I dunno. Forget it? Go to sleep?"

Julian gives Noel a long, meaningful look. “Oh right. That would’ve worked a treat. ‘Sorry, love, but it’s late and the sweet shop is closed, now go to sleep,’ give you a little chuck on the chin and pat on the head. You’d pitch a fit. And keep whinging until you got your Cornetto anyway.”

"Alright,” Noel says, his eyes and his hands going wide, “but now I've had it and it’s a bit cold in here, so how are you going to get us out?"

"Well, that's the thing, isn't it?" Julian says, searching the metallic ceiling for patience, "I'm not, because the door is locked from the outside."

“But there’s got to be like, a safety or something. Can’t have a freezer with no way out of it. That’s got to be against… you know, regulations,” Noel says, as though _regulations_ might burst through the door in a cape and mask, scoop him up into his arms, and fly him out of this situation.

“This place was probably built in the sixteen-hundreds. This freezer is probably seventy years old. At least.”

“So?”

“They didn’t have health and safety in the fifties. They were letting people sprinkle DDT on their Weetabix like it was sugar. If you froze to death because you locked yourself in a freezer, it was your fault because you were a knob who locked himself in a freezer.”

Noel's brow furrows. His mouth opens as he tries to decide which statement he wants to protest. Sadly, Julian's logic is as airtight as the seal on the freezer door, which is wedged tight as a sun-dried nut. 

"Fine," Noel huffs. He kicks at a stack of cartons with the toe of his starry boot and slumps down, folding his jumper sleeves over his hands like little built-in mittens. 

Julian checks the door, to be sure that everything he's said is actually true. He wiggles the handle, then jiggles it. He's just about to give it a brief karate chop when Noel interrupts him. 

"Julian? Speaking of frozen knobs…"

Noel’s hand wraps around Julian’s hip. His fingers are covered by the long, oversized jumper he’s wearing, but Julian can see them moving underneath the hem. He plucks gently at Julian’s waistband.

Julian looks down at him. Noel’s tongue is peeking out at the corner of his mouth, his weight collected on one side while he toes the floor with his boot. 

Julian recalls a disagreement taking place not that long ago. A lot of accusations flying about. However, Noel isn’t known for holding grudges or for anything remotely resembling a lack of libido.

Nevertheless.

“Really?” Julian asks.

Noel shrugs. “For survival, like? Can’t get frostbite on extremities that are, you know. Covered.”

“You mean buried up your arse.”

“Or in my mouth,” Noel says with a grin.

Julian muses. Either one will do, really, as an apology or a way to pass the time until the staff turn up, or someone comes looking for the two of them. 

"Come on, Ju." Noel's voice drops low, rolls across Julian's skin like a bit of ice slips off the lip of a freezer door, down into some dark, secret, unreachable corner below. He purses his lips and blinks up at Julian through his fringe. 

It shouldn't work. Julian's tired. He's cross, and peeved, and slightly annoyed on top of that. And he's really starting to feel chilled.

It always works.

The look of delight on Noel's face when Julian undoes his belt and then his zip is even wider than it was five minutes ago, when Julian reached up onto the top shelf, fished his hand around, and came back with a full box of Cornettos. Julian tries not to think of the irony of Noel moving from an ice lolly to a… _cock lolly_ in what amounts to the time it took him to ball the wrapper up and realize they were locked in. 

It's only when Julian's got his cock out and Noel's stroking him from half mast to full in the frigid air that he stops, his mouth halfway to the head. 

"Julian?" 

"Yeah?" Julian grits out. It feels like little ice crystals are growing along his balls, like frost spreading on a windowpane in a sped-up timelapse video. He hitches his trousers back up where they're trying to escape down his legs and Noel tangles his jumper paws into the band at the rear, cupping at Julian's arse.

"I'm not going to get stuck down there, am I?" 

"What?"

"You know," Noel says. "Like when you lick something too cold and your tongue gets stuck to it and then-" 

"If you wait much longer then we'll know for sure," Julian shivers.

Noel sticks his tongue out and quickly taps it against the head of Julian’s cock. He lets out a held breath. “Thank Christ,” he says.

Julian briefly enjoys the mental image of Noel’s tongue sticking to his cock like an icy flagpole, of the mix of shame and (call a spade a spade) arousal sure to be on Noel’s face when the fire brigade turned up to unstick him, but then the image is swept out of his head by the lovely warmth of Noel’s lips wrapping around him.

His cock has found its way into a delightfully temperate environment.

Unfortunately, the rest of Julian isn’t as lucky. He stupidly came down here in nothing but a t-shirt and trousers. He didn’t anticipate getting locked in a freezer. If he had, he’d have put his jacket back on, and maybe an extra one besides. 

“Could you hurry up a bit?” he asks, barely able to keep his teeth chattering.

Noel pulls off him and he looks up with an incredulous look on his face, “Hurry up?”

Now, Julian’s cock is damp and in the freezing cold. “Yeah, you know, move it along.”

“I’m trying to make this nice for you!” Noel snaps.

“I appreciate that, really, I do. But it’s really fucking cold in here.”

"Oh," Noel says, as if the sight of Julian's cock, fully stiff and wet in front of him has made him forget they're locked in a freezer that's colder than the Arctic tundra. "Right, sorry."

He dives back on after that, picks up the pace, all exquisite wet warmth and heat that makes Julian's toes scrape inside the soles of his boots. Julian wishes for long sleeves, a scarf, something to put over his ears and the tip of his nose. He thinks about burying both hands in Noel's hair, seeking out the warmth behind his ears and at the back of his neck and stops halfway there. Nothing like ice down your collar to interrupt a good blowie. He folds his hands under his arms instead, watching the stream of his panted breath form condensation clouds in the air like smoke.

Julian pictures a crackling fireplace in a rustic wooden cabin, layer upon layer of cable-knit cardigans over soft fleecy pajamas, a mattress heaped with fluffy duvets. Noel hums around him and then he's in Julian's moderate-temperature fantasy, all his milk-pale skin bare and pink with heat, sliding sun-warmed and lazy in Julian's flannel sheets.

Julian feels a lick of heat run up his spine. Faintly, he wonders if the friction on his dick is enough to set it afire as a last resort.

He fixates on the mental image, Noel sucking him so fast, his cock forms a bow drill with Noel’s lips, and somehow his saliva turns to petrol, or some other flammable liquid. Not really feasible that, is it? It doesn’t matter, Julian just wishes it was so he wouldn’t literally be freezing his arse off.

His arse is icy as the North Pole. He wishes he had his Tundra coat. That big pile of furry rags was always sweltering when he wore it on stage, even when he didn’t have anything on underneath it except the little pink pants. Fuck, he’d kill for that coat. The coat, a roaring cock fire, a glass of brandy, Noel’s warm little body sharing the insulated space with him.

“Ju.”

Julian startles. He looks down at Noel. He’s frowning. 

“Yeah?”

“What’s going on?”

“What do you mean?” Julian asks with a shiver.

“It’s like I’m giving a blowie to a hologram. You’re not doing _anything_ , and I know it’s not me. I’m doing my part. I’m sucking you off like a champ. Usually, you’re making noises like a toilet about to overflow by now, gurgling and hissing away, saying my name with your eyes crossed.”

“I don’t think that’s an accurate description—”

“It’s plenty accurate. What’s wrong?”

Julian’s teeth chatter. “I’m cold! Christ, aren’t you freezing?”

“No,” Noel says, as if it’s obvious, as if he’s roasting in the sun on a beach in Spain in the smallest pants known to mankind. “I dressed for the occasion.”

Julian rolls his eyes. Of course. Of course he did. 

Noel always seems to be “dressed for the occasion.” Ten years ago, he seemed to be able to wear cutoff t-shirts to awards ceremonies where most participants were wearing three piece suits, and walked out as best-dressed man every time. He seemed to be able to wear one layer of clothing, barely, out to clubs and aftershow parties, and he’d be warm enough waiting outside for a cab back to their hotel with a flimsy jacket and a threadbare scarf over the top. 

Didn’t ever stop him asking for Julian’s coat, though. Certainly didn’t ever stop Julian from draping it over his shoulders, either.

Of course, tonight, he just happens to be in the world’s warmest, sunniest jumper when they get locked in a freezer on a midnight ice cream run.

Noel pumps his fist while he waits for Julian’s response at about the pace he’d drum his fingers on a flat surface, impatient. Julian shivers in response. It feels like a snowman in league with Jack Frost and possibly the devil himself is dancing little frigid spiky fingers up and down the backs of his legs inside his trousers, because hell is cold, and he’s in it. 

Noel seems to like his shiver, seems to interpret it as Julian suddenly being overcome with pleasure, gratitude, and enjoyment instead of frustration, exasperation, and hypothermia. 

“That’s more like it, Ju’n. A little noise isn’t going to kill you, either,” he says, looking up at Julian through his fringe, his eyes wide as he wraps his lips back around Julian’s frosty cock. 

The universe hears Noel’s request, apparently, because in an act of rudeness, spite, and irony, the fucking entire freezer starts to hum. Julian can feel the vibration through the floor in the soles of his feet. Cold air, colder than the already frigid air they’ve been stuck in, starts to waft down from the ceiling. 

Incredible. It really can get worse, if only you believe.

Julian grunts. He might turn into a solid body of ice tonight and the staff might find him tomorrow morning, blue and cold with cocksicle and snowballs on full frostbitten display, but there’s no fucking chance he’s listening to that hum, no fucking chance he’s going to let it get to him. 

He closes his eyes and thinks about his Tundra coat.

He thinks about Noel, naked except for a pair of tiny red pants, pressing up against him in his Tundra coat. He thinks about scooping Noel up, relieving him of his pants, and fucking him into the sofa while he was wearing his Tundra coat, and a little flicker of heat, about the size of a lighter flame, runs up his spine again. Something that could be a moan of enjoyment ekes its way out from between his cold lips, and Noel hums around him. 

If he concentrates hard enough, he can replace the tickle of frigid air on the back of his neck with the tickle of the fur instead, and the lighter flame grows to a flickering candle wick. He breathes out a sigh, condensation shooting out of his mouth towards the crown of Noel’s rapidly bobbing head.

Noel had wrapped his fists in the lapels, had dragged Julian down to him as close as he could get, sealing them inside the coat. “It’s like being shagged by a wooly mammoth,” Noel had gasped, giggling as he bit Julian’s earlobe and arched his back off the sofa. 

It was like being inside an oven, possibly located inside a wooly mammoth, definitely on the face of the sun, if Julian remembers correctly, sweat trickling down his back and into all of his… crevices. 

God, it was _incredible_. He doesn’t remember ever being so fucking warm in his life, buried balls deep inside Noel and covered in sweat, listening to Noel gasp and sigh and _fuck_ if he can’t hear it still, although it’s a lot lower and more masculine and-

Oh, no, wait. That’s him, in the present day. In the freezer. With heat building and crackling in his balls, and-

“Fucking hell, Fielding,” he groans, grabbing at the closest rack of shelving to steady himself. He remembers saying the same thing after coat sex, checking the label and reading “dry clean only” after Noel had bucked and come explosively between them, somehow managing to stripe spunk on the coat.

“At least it’s just the lining?” Noel had grinned sheepishly. 

“I want...” Julian says, trailing off, thinking about heat and warmth and Noel’s beautiful, naked body. 

Noel responds to his statement by bobbing his head faster. He cups Julian’s balls with his hand and rolls them. Noel’s hand is warm. His whole body is probably warm inside that jumper… the coat had been big enough for two and the jumper is absolutely swimming on Noel.

He thinks about it for less than a second. There’s a tall cardboard box on the back wall, and while he’s not normally one to interrupt a very nice blowjob, he decides to make an exception this time. He reaches down and shakes Noel’s shoulder, “Come on… get up.”

Noel pulls off him, “What?”

Julian knows he doesn’t understand, and he’s still confused when Julian pulls him up to his feet, and even more confused when Julian picks up the hem of the jumper and then slips under it. Julian wraps his arms around Noel’s ribcage and he lifts him and then carries him, blindly aiming for the box, his face buried against Noel’s chest, already feeling about a million degrees warmer.

“What are you doing, you lunatic?” Noel asks, laughing. His heels hit the cardboard and Julian sets him down, running his hands up Noel’s back and luxuriating in the sublime heat of him.

Julian feels it radiating under his palms like a bloody furnace. “Yes,” he gasps. He tugs Noel’s t-shirt up, touches his bare sides.

“Your hands are fucking freezing!” Noel complains, trying to reach for Julian’s wrists, but he gets tangled up in his own jumper. He wiggles as Julian slides his hands up to his chest. 

Julian has had years of practice finding Noel’s nipples. He could do it blind, behind his back, and with oven mitts on, so finding them while he’s under Noel’s jumper, with nothing more than a mere t-shirt separating him from Noel’s skin is child’s play. 

“Jesus, Ju,” Noel hisses as soon as he makes contact.

Julian remembers that, too. A hotel room. A tray of ice. Noel with his hands tied behind his back while Julian teased him with cold and wet heat. If they’re doing some of their greatest hits, he feels Noel might enjoy a repeat performance of that one, too. 

He rubs his icy thumb over Noel’s nipple, feels it go tight, then he pulls Noel’s t-shirt up and sucks his tit into his mouth. Noel arches into him. The dry sound of denim rasping against cardboard is whispering constantly as he shimmies under Julian’s touch.

Julian feels Noel’s hand on his face. Julian turns his head and sees that he has slipped it out of the sleeve and under the jumper. His warm fingers glide down Julian’s nose, down his throat and chest and belly until he finds what he’s looking for. 

He wraps his hand around Julian’s cock and Julian thrusts into his fist and returns his attention to raking his teeth over Noel’s tit.

Never once in their whole relationship has Julian ever needed to remind Noel to make noise for him, and he doesn’t now. He swears, and says Julian’s name, and gasps out little moans, and little puffs of laughter. He’s fucking intoxicating. The flicker of flame in Julian’s body is nearly an inferno. 

Fuck, he wants Noel’s cock in his mouth.

He grips Noel’s hips and pulls him closer to the edge of the box. The jumper slips up and Julian is momentarily in danger of losing his cover, but when he kneels, the bottom of the jumper settles over his shoulders again. He undoes Noel’s zip, pops the button on his jeans and adjusts everything just enough to get Noel out while leaving his arse covered.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Julian thinks about health code violations, but it doesn’t stop him from downing Noel’s cock with an almost unhinged urgency.

Noel instantly yelps at the cooler air on his dick. His squeal wavers and then tapers off like a melting icicle into a shimmery little moan of delight when he feels Julian's warm mouth surround him. Julian rumbles around him in response. He tries to focus and keep his teeth from chattering. 

Julian knows better than anyone that Noel “Bite My Cock Off” Fielding doesn’t mind the occasional suggestion of pearly whites, but he’d likely get a little fussy if Julian chose this moment to imitate a nutcracker on speed. 

Noel’s dick is velvet smooth and hot, and Julian sucks the heat out of him, presses his cold face as close to Noel's warm stomach as he can, until the tip of his nose is flat against Noel's pubes. "C-cold," Noel gasps. Both his hands have come out of his sleeves into the body of the jumper, and he wedges one between his stomach and Julian's face. 

Doesn't make it incredibly easy for Julian to breathe as he is, more than a generous mouthful of cock in his gob under a warm jumper, Noel's body heat swimming around him as Noel squishes his nose in, but it beats freezing to death. 

His hands are rubbing at Noel's hips, sliding over warm skin and the tangled bands of his pants and jeans. When he pulls back, Noel hums and drops his hand onto Julian's head and does what Julian can only describe as petting him like he's the beloved family dog. Again, he can't complain; everywhere Noel's fingertips ghost leaves pleasant warm sensations, tiny contrails of heat rushing over Julian's scalp. 

As he hollows his cheeks for all he's worth and sucks, Noel's other hand finds his and covers it, his fingers running over the ridges of Julian's knuckles as he bobs his head.

"Christ, Ju," Noel breathes, his fingers tensing. "You're- this is- _oh, fucking hell, Julian_ -"

Julian knots his hand into Noel's and squeezes. His other hand, warmed on the radiant heat bursting off of Noel's core, makes its way out of the jumper and down to his chilly cock. 

Christ, the warmth on his dick feels so incredible when he takes himself in hand, the skin of his palm practically sizzles when he gives himself a stroke. He moans, Noel moans, and they squeeze each other's fingers at the same time. 

Noel's voice is shaky but his grip on Julian's hand is tight. "Ju, _eat me_ ," he groans, curling his fingers delicately behind Julian's ear. 

Julian gives him what he's asking for. He's forgotten the icy nip of cold air on his back, the creep of frosty fingers against his skin between his t-shirt and the band of his trousers. Even the hard, cold metal of the floor pressing into his knees vanishes, his cock covered by his speeding hand, Noel's buried in his throat. 

He sinks onto Noel, sucks him down, takes him deep, and Noel tenses. 

Julian pulls off him in an instant.

“Not yet,” Julian pants, his voice muffled and rough against Noel’s stomach. 

Noel makes a sound in his throat, a disbelieving gurgle. “Are you fucking— fuck it, I’m coming in there.”

Julian doesn’t understand what Noel means until he sees Noel’s face grinning down at him, and then Julian gets off his knees and launches himself toward him so he can seize Noel’s lips. 

Sweet, like a Cornetto. He’s just had one, so it makes sense, but there is always something vaguely sweet about Noel’s mouth. It’s always like he’s just had sweets. Maybe, more properly, he’s made of sweets. A calorically dense confection, all whipped cream and sweet ice, formed into the shape of a man, warm, and chill at once; everything at all times, in all places, and in every way. Everything anyone could ever want in the whole world.

Julian holds Noel around his back, holds him close, and settles into the crook of his thighs so their cocks rub together. Noel’s hands wrap around the back of Julian’s head. They gasp breaths between frantic kisses in their shared woolen Narnia, a wonderland under white and yellow ruffles where nothing but the two of them exist.

“Touch us, Ju,” Noel whines, thrusting against him helplessly, “hold us together. Use your powerful yeti paws. I wanna feel your cock on mine.”

If Julian was still freezing cold and in a shit mood, if his dick wasn’t insisting that it needed to spunk in the next thirty seconds or he’d die, he’d probably laugh at “powerful yeti paws,” would probably nudge his forehead against Noel’s and eye him and waggle his fingers until Noel cackled and then thrust his hips out at him, impatient. 

As it is, he skates a hand in between them, lines them up in his fist and pumps, firm and solid and hard. The heat of their cocks together is like dipping crotch-first into a roaring bonfire. Every moan and huff and pant that comes out of Noel’s lips is gasoline poured straight on; every thrust into Julian’s fist, up against the underside of his dick is another bundle of matches lighting fireworks to throw into the flames.

The roar that rushes out of Julian’s mouth when he comes echoes off of the hard walls loud enough to cause an avalanche. It floods him with heat, sending tingling warmth to every one of his extremities. He’s faintly aware of an accompanying sound, like hail on the tin roof of a shed, and wonders if Noel’s added another happy noise to his sex repertoire.

When he blinks, still pumping the both of them, Noel’s clinging on to his biceps like a mountain goat. Julian half-expects him to yodel, the way his face is screwed up in bliss, but he’s not there quite yet.

“Fuck, Julian, that was - _oh, God, fuck_ \- the _hottest_ thing,” Noel pants, enunciating the H in “hot.” He bucks his hips into Julian’s hand. “Can you,” he pants, “can you do it again?”

Julian clears his throat, draws enough breath into his lungs to suck most of the viable air in their jumper cave out, and finds that he’s a bit… _hoarse_. 

He might have lost his voice. Only temporarily, only a tiny, tiny bit. He’s sure when his head’s a bit clearer and he’s warmer and less covered in cum and bathed in the joys of orgasmic freezer sex bliss, he’ll be able to find it. 

Surely, it will turn up before any of the press they have to do tomorrow morning. 

Still, Julian has other, more pressing matters to worry about.

He leans down and nips at Noel’s neck, thrusts his softening dick into Noel’s, thumbs his slit like mad, and Noel stiffens. He draws in a breath - certainly the last of the air between them - and comes with a wail that thumps against Julian’s ears as hard as a neatly-packed snowball to the solar plexus. 

“Pretty, pretty,” Julian rasps in a crackling whisper as he holds Noel’s spent cock. His voice sounds like it’s being produced by a carrier bag in a stiff breeze. It’s not that important. Noel can hear him. Julian can’t say anything a moment later anyway. Noel’s lips find his, feeding him slack, lazy kisses, while his hands clutch Julian’s shoulders tight.

Julian holds Noel’s hip, angling him backward, pressing their chests together. He wonders, logistically, if it’s possible for them to get a cuddle in on the box. It no longer seems important about being locked in a freezer, or the cold outside the jumper. They are inside the jumper, in the warm, nivid (slightly spunk scented) air, and nothing can—

Noel slips away from him. There is a sound like ripping cardboard.

“Ju!” he shouts, wildly, because the sound isn’t just _like_ ripping cardboard, it _is._

Julian reaches for him, his hands tangling in the jumper before he can get them around Noel’s back. Noel scrabbles for purchase, but he’s slipping down. “Shit,” Julian gasps. 

Noel tries desperately to pull himself up, “My arse!” he yelps, “Fuck, this box is full of ice, Julian! Get me out!”

“Hang on,” Julian croaks. He stands up, abandoning their private paradise. Noel is folded nearly in half with only his feet hanging out of the box. He looks a bit like one of the ghosts out of Pac-Man, only with better footwear. 

Julian can’t help laughing a little. More than a little.

He pulls up his trousers and tucks himself away, unable to stop giggling.

“Julian,” Noel says, kicking his feet and fluttering the jumper, “stop faffing about and get me out of here!”

Julian snorts another laugh, then reaches under the jumper. He grabs Noel’s hands and, with a bit of effort on both their parts, pulls him free.

Immediately, Noel holds the jumper away from his body, “Well, that’s just perfect!”

“What’s wrong?” Julian asks, or tries to ask. His voice doesn’t seem to be returning any time soon.

“You’ve got cum all over the fucking jumper.” He pops out of the inside of the jumper and holds it, one-handed in front of him. “This is dry clean only!”

“Looks like when the shoe is on the other foot, someone’s not so happy to have their clothes ruined.”

“What are you on about?” Noel asks. “My spunk can’t ruin your clothes. Your clothes are ruined to start.”

Julian laughs harder. “Oh, really? Suppose you don’t remember spunking all over the inside of the Tundra coat, then?”

Noel rolls his eyes, “That doesn’t count! That was a costume and that was years ago!”

“Yeah, _my_ costume. I had to explain it to wardrobe. What do you think they thought when they saw that stain?”

“Probably that you bummed me in the coat,” Noel says. He grins, “If they did, they were right.”

Julian smiles back at him. Already the chill is tickling his arms. “Are you going to put that back on?” he asks.

Noel wavers for a moment before reaching down and delicately wiping his dick off on the sleeve, then tucking himself back in his pants. “No chance,” he pouts. He tosses the jumper in Julian’s general direction, turns on his heel, and retreats to the back corner of the freezer in a huff.

Julian rasp-giggles. He’s not worried; Noel will come around in about thirty seconds, when his nose gets cold. Then he’ll thread his fingers in the jumper hem and look over meaningfully at the ruined cardboard box, and blink his big blue eyes up at Julian, daring him to remember what they’d just done, all strops about dry cleaning ruined clothes forgotten. 

Best warm himself up, then. 

Julian kneels to pick the jumper up off of the floor. Its sunshine smile is saucy when he shakes the fabric out. What was a blankly benevolent grin before now looks satisfied and somewhat sentient, as if being striped with cum has granted the jumper a sense of the pleasures of life.

Julian pulls it on over his head. He feels like perhaps, the jumper has gotten off too.

Like clockwork, Julian hears the tap of Noel’s heels rounding the shelving. The roar of the freezer lessens and then clicks to a low hum, cool air whispering out of the vents as Noel wanders into view with zipped jeans and another Cornetto in his mouth. The cone’s a striking shade of lavender.

Julian shakes his head. In for one midnight ice cream, in for an entire box while they slowly freeze to death.

“Ju, did you see what was in that box?” Noel enthuses around several licks. “An entire mess of Cornettos! In every flavor!” He pulls back from the treat to study it. “I don’t know if these are even legal in England; they taste like fucking rainbows. You’ve gotta have one, Ju’n,” he says, scraping a hand through his fringe. “Prob’ly good for your throat.”

Julian shakes his head and puts his hands up before Noel starts tossing him rainbow sherbet and other frozen delights out of the arse-box. “Again, still trapped in a freezer,” he rasps. “Now that we’ve got off for warmth, perhaps we should-”

“Maybe,” Noel cuts him off. He’s drifted back to the box, piling pink and gold-wrapped treats up on the shelving next to him, a running order for later. “Oh, yeah, Ju, and I meant to tell you, you knocked some frozen veg off that back shelf when you, y’know, bellowed like a moose just then, and there’s peas everywhere on the floor back there that you _might_ want to clean up.”

He turns with the half-eaten Cornetto lodged in his cheek and his eyes suddenly go wide, as if he’s finally taking in the full effect of Julian, with his jumper-rumpled sex hair and his pink cheeks, swaddled in his yellow smiley friend, filling out the jumper with his broad shoulders.

“Might keep you warm” dies on Noel’s lips as he does what can only be described as a magician’s trick and produces his phone from thin air. 

He grins. “Keep still, Ju.”

“What the hell are you doing?” Julian asks him, gesturing at the phone.

Noel tilts his head at him, “Getting a picture, obviously. Come on, smile, yeah?”

Julian doesn’t smile. He doesn’t say anything. He just stares at Noel’s phone. “You have service in here?” he asks.

Noel nods, “Yeah, course I do.”

Julian nods back. “And you had that on you the whole time?”

“Well, I didn’t just manifest it out of Cornetto shells and ice chips, did I?”

Julian continues to nod. He has to. If he stops agreeing with the insanity of the windfall they’ve just received, he’ll end up magicking the phone right back out of existence. He doesn’t want to ask any more questions. Except, he can’t help himself. “Where was it, exactly?”

“My pocket.”

“Sure.” Julian looks from the phone in Noel’s hands, to his skin-tight, pocketless jeans, to his puzzled face. He feels slightly hysterical. He tries not to say it.

He has to say it. “But you haven’t got any pockets!”

“Course I have,” Noel says, closing the case permanently. “Look, do you want to hurry up and pop a smile on? I gotta get a picture. Dave is going to think this is hilarious.”

“Going to get a picture of this,” Julian says, gesturing to himself in the spunky, smiley jumper, “and send it to Dave?”

Noel nods like he’s pleased Julian is finally cottoning on.

“Yeah, hey, here’s an idea. Maybe text him and ask him to _come get us the fuck out of here?_ ”

Noel’s jaw drops slightly. His lips part and then he bursts into a massive grin. “Julian, you’re a genius! I knew you’d come up with a way to get us out!”

*  
On the highest floor of the hotel, in the nicest room, with the finest view, the comfiest sofa, and the best noise-canceling headphones that money can buy, Dave's phone buzzes on the coffee table where it’s propped near his socked foot. 

He stretches to reach it, his attention fully on the telly to his left. Rainforest sounds spill out, birds and insects and frogs trilling and chirping, blending together into a soothing mix that’s music to his ears. He’s wanted to watch this doc for ages, since-

Since a certain time in his life. 

A time in his life that he needs not consider. 

For reasons. 

For _jazzy trumpet co-_

No. Nope. No thank you. 

Just for reasons. Reasons will do. 

He needs go no further.

Dave closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, listens to the chorus of frogs floating into the room.

He feels calmer when he opens his eyes. He taps his phone screen. 

It’s a false calm.

He’s greeted with a picture of Julian, texted to him by Noel. That’s not unusual in the least. His messages from Noel are as dotted through with pictures of Julian as much as a dalmatian is covered in spots. Julian’s hair isn’t unusual either - it’s a rumpled mess, and his lips are set in a straight line, and his brow is furrowed. 

Dave shrugs. Classic Julian.

What’s unusual is twofold. One, Julian’s wearing Noel’s sweater, the oversized one with the smiley face on the front. Dave actually chuckles at the juxtaposition of the benevolent grin against Julian’s weary expression until he notices that two, the background of the picture doesn’t look like a hotel room, or a hotel corridor, or a hotel elevator. It doesn’t even look like a hotel lobby.

It looks like a fucking hotel freezer. 

Before Dave can groan, a text chimes through. 

“dave can u come get us? ju locked us in the freezer downstairs lol x”

Dave looks at the smooth, uncracked ceiling of his room, and wills himself to keep his patience. His phone buzzes again, and again, and again. He gathers that Noel wanted ice cream, and it escalated from there, and-

“it’s getting cold in here dave x”

“freezing my tits off lol x”

“dave? x”

“are you coming yet dave? x”

Yeah, he can come get them. Of course he can. He’ll just miss the nature documentary he’s waited fucking years to see, and he’ll get up and put shoes on after he’s decided he’s in for the night, _and_ he’ll trek down to the bowels of the kitchen and fight to get the freezer door open, all while dragging the throw blanket from the sofa and the duvet from his bed behind him so they’ll have something to warm up with when he rescues them. 

No, not a problem, all in a day’s work for loyal friend and compatriot Dave Brown.

They’d better at least save him a Twister for his troubles, the fuckers.

He taps a message back to Noel when he’s in the elevator. For a moment, he’s tempted to tell them they can warm up after he opens the door by getting in the Bollo suit and running a lap each. Instead, he tells Noel that he’s on his way, and when he gets there to open the door, they’d best have their dicks covered.

It’s not easy, opening the ancient freezer door even after he’s found the key; it weighs what Dave’s sure must be a metric fuckton. He huffs and puffs and pushes and pulls and pants. He practically announces his presence by making more noise getting the damn door open than the two of them could ever dream of making, doing any activity ever. 

He tries not to think about noises in relation to Noel and Julian and _activities_.

Even so, when the door creaks open, he shouts a “hello” into the freezer space, just to be safe. 

Doesn’t matter. 

Julian immediately rasps out a groan, and Noel whimpers in response, and Dave buries his face in his hands.

Technically, yeah, _technically_ their dicks are covered, both of them sharing the jumper as they are. What’s not covered by beige and yellow fabric is covered by Julian’s large, pumping hand.

Dave rolls his eyes, and as he turns to stomp back upstairs, the fucking jumper smiles at him.


End file.
